Cross Cowboy, page 7
“I do,” Shayla said. “I can’t be the only one who gets a little exhausted after spending time with their family.”
“I can’t get away from mine,” Travis said with a smile. “In fact…” He looked away as the song ended. “Never mind.”
“No, say it.”
“I’ll regret it.”
“That hasn’t seemed to stop you before.”
Travis’s gaze flew back to her, his eyes shocked and widening. “Wow, look who’s saying stuff now.”
A powerful zip moved through Shayla. “I can hold my own with some people,” she said. “I do have to deal with other people quite often for Sweetspot.”
“I bet you do.” He slipped his hand back into hers and squeezed. “Do you want a drink? Another apple? To keep dancing?”
“Let’s keep dancing,” she said as another ballad started up. It was faster than the previous one but was still slow enough for Travis to put both of his arms around her. He did, and she looked up at him. “You’re really not going to tell me what’s on your mind?”
His eyes stormed, and Shayla knew that look on his face. “I was actually considering inviting you to my family dinner, but that has disaster written all over it.” He chuckled and shook his head. “We’re loud, we yell everything, and most of the time, there’s something that gets slammed.”
Shayla laughed, but she had a feeling Travis wasn’t kidding. “Won’t they be on their best behavior when you bring your girlfriend home to meet them?”
Travis’s feet slipped against the floor, and Shayla slid with him. A cry flew from her mouth, and he grunted as he stabilized the pair of them. He pulled his hands back and smoothed down his jacket, the distance between them only a few inches. At least physically. The way he stared at her had put a chasm between them.
“What did I say?” she asked, glancing at the couple next to them. They danced along merrily, the woman leaning her head back and laughing at something her date had said.
“Girlfriend?” Travis asked, the word grinding through his throat.
Shayla’s eyes flew back to his. He seemed to vibrate with energy, and she wanted to feed off of it. She inched closer to him. “Not ready for that?”
“Are you ready for that?”
Shayla put her hand on his shoulder, as if she’d draw him into a dance again. Instead, she slid her fingers down his jacketed arm to his hand and carefully, cautiously, casually laced her fingers between his. “I mean, yes. We’ve been out four or five times now. What does it take to become your girlfriend?”
Maybe he had a set of requirements she didn’t know about. Maybe she didn’t meet all of them. He sure seemed interested in her, and the blitzing, buzzing way her pulse blipped through her veins told her she was interested in him. Maybe he had a loud bark, but maybe, just maybe, she could quiet it.
“I don’t know,” he said, frowning. He glanced left and right and eased them back into the crowd of dancers. He moved smoothly, but his muscles contained a tension they hadn’t previously.
Shayla swallowed, not comforted by his reaction to a common term. She didn’t know what to say, and she chose to hold onto Travis’s shoulders lightly while her thoughts jumbled and jumped around inside her mind.
The song ended, and this time, he didn’t ask her what she wanted. He silently took her hand and led her past the band and out toward the food trucks. The night cooled out here, away from the crowds and the spotlights, and Shayla took in a deep breath. The scent of flowers and food, coconut and chocolate, met her nose.
“I haven’t had very many girlfriends,” Travis said gruffly. “I don’t know…I don’t know how to be a boyfriend.”
“If you don’t want the label, it’s fine.” Shayla paused in front of the Sweet Water Taffy truck, the bright lights casting squares through the three big windows along the side of it.
A pretty blonde with pink-tipped hair leaned out of the middle one. “Everyone gets an apple as part of their Ball ticket. We brought five different flavors.” She indicated the board mounted to the outside of the truck. “Let me know what you want, okay?”
Travis looked at her and then Shayla, and he obviously wasn’t going to say anything.
“Thank you,” Shayla said, and the woman ducked back inside. She’d seen her somewhere before. Probably a fair or an event they’d both been at. Shayla had taken Sweetspot to weekend boutiques, craft fairs, county fairs, and anything else she could prior to establishing a brick-and-mortar storefront in downtown Sweet Water Falls.
“Do you want an apple?” Shayla asked.
“Not right now,” he said, once again shooting a glance at the caramel apple truck. He focused on her again. “I want to be honest with you.”
“Then be honest with me.” Her chest vibrated, because with Travis, she couldn’t predict what he’d say or do.
“I’d like to be your boyfriend, but I’m going to screw up.” His jaw clenched, and his dark eyes shot lightning into the sky. “I’m wondering if we could try anyway. And when I say something awful, you call me on it. And I’ll try again.”
Shayla found him humble and adorable, but she wouldn’t tell him that. She already knew he didn’t like being categorized as adorable. “Okay,” she said. “You can do the same for me.”
“You don’t say awful things,” he said.
“I might.” She reached her free hand toward his face and ran her fingers lightly along his jaw. “Nobody’s perfect, Trav.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, his eyes flying to something behind her. He tugged her out of the way as a few other people arrived at the apple truck. Darkness threatened to swallow them again as they moved away from the food and drinks, and Shayla simply wanted to be where Travis was, so she went.
“So is that a yes to me being your girlfriend?” she asked when the path widened and she could walk beside him. “Or do you want to go hiking before you decide?”
Travis chuckled, the sound deep inside his throat. “You might kill me on the hike,” he said, turning back to her. “But I don’t need to do that before I decide. Using the word girlfriend is probably better than saying, this woman I’m seeing, or this stunning business owner who somehow hasn’t stopped talking to me yet.” He grinned at her, and Shayla let herself feel strong and powerful, sexy and stunning, just for a few seconds.
“All right, then,” she said.
“All right,” he agreed. “Let’s go back to the dancing. I sure did like holding you in my arms.”
Surprise darted through Shayla, because she didn’t know many men who just said whatever came into their heads. Travis did, and she found it as refreshing as she did alarming.
Back on the dance floor, he wrapped her up in his arms, and she sure did like that. She didn’t need to worry about tomorrow at her parents’, or Monday on the hike. Right now, she was Travis’s girlfriend and they were dancing. She simply wanted to bask in those things for a while.
9
Travis opened the side door to enter the farmhouse, calling, “Heya, everyone.”
Music filtered back to him, some of Mama’s preferred classical strings. She turned from the kitchen sink, and it looked like the movement took a lot of effort. She washed something in the running water as her face brightened.
“Hello, son,” she said, her voice rusty and misused. The radiation had caused some issues with her vocal cords, and Mama sometimes chose not to talk because she hated the way her voice sounded now.
“Mama.” He strode toward her and tucked her right into his side. As he gave her a gentle squeeze, he added, “How are you today? You shouldn’t be cooking.” He took in the variety of vegetables in the sink, and he could put together the salad.
“Everyone’s at church,” she said. “I can do something before your daddy gets home.”
“Probably the whole meal,” Travis said. “He was talking to Justin when Will and I left.” He chuckled and stepped away from his mother and bent to pat the golden retriever who never got too far from Mama. “Heya, Queenie. Let’s get you and Mama on the couch. I can take over here.”
He linked his elbow through his mother’s and put his other around her shoulders. “Come on, Mama. You’ve probably been up too long.”
“Just a few minutes.” She went with him, however, and Trav took that as a sign that she was tired. Mama could become exhausted just by getting out of bed, and Travis had come over that morning to make sure she and Daddy could get to church okay.
Mama hardly ever went anymore. She couldn’t sit on the benches, and she didn’t like being around people in a closed room. She spent most of her time on the couch facing the huge windows that looked south over their farm, or on the deck on the other side of those windows, doing the same thing.
Queenie, the precious golden retriever Daddy had gotten for her a few years ago, never went too far from her side, unless someone wanted the dog out on the ranch. Ford, Travis’s nephew, loved Queenie, and he sometimes took her over to the pond just beyond the cabin where Trav lived with Will.
“There you go,” he said, getting Mama settled on the couch. “Up here, Queenie.” The dog jumped up next to his mother, and the two of them sighed together.
“It’s raining,” Mama said.
Trav looked out the windows at the first splashes of rain against the glass. “It looked gray on the way home.” He returned to the kitchen and started chopping the lettuce. All of it went into a bowl, and he then peeled cucumbers, diced tomatoes, and opened the bag of garlic-cheese croutons.
He thought about Shayla for a couple of seconds, and then said, “Mama, how dangerous would it be for me to invite my girlfriend to dinner out here?”
That perked her up, and she peered at him over her shoulder. “Girlfriend?”
“Yeah, that pretty woman I told you guys about last week? Shayla? We went to the Fall Ball last night, and I’m not sure why, but she seems to like me.” He smiled as he said it. He’d spoken about other women at the family dinner, and his mother had always told him not to be so arrogant.
Travis hadn’t realized he could come across that way, and he’d been extra-mindful of it this time around.
“Of course she likes you,” Mama said, as if she’d never chastised him for thinking highly of himself. “How did the Ball go? Did you kiss her?”
“No, ma’am,” Travis said, turning to open the oven. It sat empty. “What are you making with this?”
“There’s a roast in the slow cooker,” she said.
Travis surveyed the counter beside the stove, not finding the slow cooker. The scent of roasting meat wasn’t anywhere in the house either. “Where?”
“Right there by the coffee maker.”
Travis stared and blinked. “Mama, there isn’t.” He turned around, thinking he’d lost his mind. A better explanation was that…she had. Travis’s heart drooped as he took a few steps toward her. “Did you or Daddy put it in?”
“Daddy said he would,” Mama said. “I said I’d put together a salad.”
Travis returned to the fridge and opened it. The beef roast sat there, stone cold and one-hundred percent raw. There was no way they were eating this for lunch, and Travis’s mind sparked. He pulled open the meat drawer, asking, “Do you guys have hamburgers? I can grill those up quick.”
Mama didn’t answer, and Trav pulled out a couple of pounds of ground beef. He loved tacos more than anything—there was never a day a taco couldn’t save—but today felt like a burger bonanza.
He formed the patties and had just pulled out the sliced cheese when the side door opened again.
“…I’m saying is that it’s over,” Will said. “There’s no need for you to keep bringin’ it up.”
“I’ll bring it up when it needs to be brought up,” Lee said, practically slamming the door behind him.
“Daddy’s right there.” Will growled at his brother and moved back over to the door. He opened it and Daddy came inside.
“Thanks a lot, Lee,” he said.
“Sorry,” Lee said. “Will thinks we don’t need to talk about harvesting just because it’s over for now. We own a farm. We have to plan for things.’
“I never said we didn’t have to plan,” Will said.
“Where’s the roast?” Daddy asked.
“You didn’t put it in,” Trav said. “I’m making hamburgers.”
“Hamburgers?” Clarissa asked, and Trav’s attention got whipped toward the other entrance into the kitchen area of the house. She stood there in her church dress, her hand tightly held in Spencer’s. “We had hamburgers last night, due to your fancy-pants date.”
“What?” Trav asked. “No. I put dinner in the slow cooker for y’all yesterday.”
“It wasn’t done,” Clarissa said. “So I made hamburgers.”
Travis didn’t want to get into a family debate, but he couldn’t help himself as he asked, “Then where’s all that food?” Surely it was done by now.
“I took it down the road to Widow Olsen.” Daddy entered the kitchen, searching the countertops for something he wouldn’t find—that roast he said he’d put in.
“So we had hamburgers last night,” Rissa said.
“So?” Trav challenged, going back to his food prep. “You’re not going to die if you eat hamburgers twice in a row.”
“I might,” Rissa said, and Trav rolled his eyes.
“I put in the roast,” Daddy said.
“No,” Trav said, indicating the countertop near the coffee maker. “You didn’t, Daddy. It’s still in the fridge.”
His father gave him a harsh glare and pulled open the fridge. Travis went back to making burgers, because he wasn’t stupid, and if he didn’t get dinner on the table in the next twenty minutes, there’d be a riot. Just the fact that Lee and Will were already at each other’s throats about the harvest wasn’t good.
“What’s this?” Rissa asked at the same time Daddy said, “I forgot to put it in.”
“It’s okay, Daddy,” Lee said, though he exchanged a look with Travis. So much was said between the two of them. Mama had been sick and aging for five years now. Trav had gotten used to the idea that she wasn’t well, wouldn’t be, and wouldn’t be with them forever.
But Daddy?
He’d always been healthy as a horse. He went out on the ranch every single day. He could still hold more than anyone on the ranch, and every cowboy and cowgirl at Sweet Water Falls Farm listened to him. Travis included.
Clarissa held up the caramel apple Trav had brought home from the Fall Ball last night. “That’s my Oreo caramel apple,” he said. “There was this great place at the Ball. Sweet Water Taffy? We all got a free apple as part of our admission ticket.”
“Did you bring it to tease us all?” his sister asked.
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “I’m going to wave it around in front of all of you and then eat it myself.” He rolled his eyes at her again. “I wanted you to see it. You love stuff like that. Number two, I thought I’d slice it up and we can all have a piece.”
He had a sweet tooth like any Texan, but a whole caramel apple was too much for him. It was the havoc it wreaked on his dental work he couldn’t stand. A slice or two was fine. A whole apple? He didn’t want to lose a crown.
“I’ll slice it,” she said.
“I’ll go start the grill,” Will said.
“These buns are frozen,” Lee said. “I’ve got some at my place. I’ll go grab them and be right back.”
“Thanks, Lee,” Travis said, and he threw a look at Daddy. He still stood in the kitchen, in front of the open fridge, seemingly trying to figure out how he’d forgotten about the roast.
“Daddy,” Trav said. “I was just talkin’ to Mama about my girlfriend.”
Rissa sucked in a breath, and Daddy turned from the fridge. His eyebrows went up. “Shayla?”
Praise the Lord, Trav thought. At least someone listened when he spoke at family dinners.
“Yeah,” he said. “I was askin’ her if it would be relationship-suicide to bring her out here for dinner one night.” He tossed a look to Spencer. “I mean, Rissa brings Spence.”
“It’s a deal-breaker almost every time,” Spencer said with a grin. He was clearly teasing, his eyes shining with laughter.
“Only when there’s mud and grease,” Rissa clarified. “We’re free of both of those today.”
“It’s the not-knowing if something will come up,” Spence said. “That you have to watch out for.” He met Rissa’s eyes and looked back at Travis. “We just went and got pizza that night. It wasn’t a complete waste.”
“Shayla’s your girlfriend now?” Rissa asked, taking up a seat at the bar. “The Ball must’ve gone well.”
“The Ball went very well,” Trav confirmed, finishing with the burgers. He turned with the plate of perfectly seasoned meat in his hand, only to be blocked by his father. “Daddy, for Pete’s sake. Close the fridge and go sit by Mama.”
He toed the fridge closed and stepped past his dad.
“You don’t have to kick it,” Daddy said. “I’m right here.”
“I didn’t kick it,” Trav said, his voice taking on a tone of insubordination too. “It’s fine. We’ll have hamburgers.”
“I put together a salad too, dear,” Mama said, and Trav gave her a smile.
“That’s right,” he said to her. “Hamburgers and salad.” And if he was still hungry later, he had plenty of food at his cabin.
Later that night, he and Will sat out on their front patio, facing the pond. The water lapped leisurely at itself and the shore, and Trav sighed as he put another bite of ice cream in his mouth. Rissa needed to get rid of all the cherry chocolate crunch, and Trav was more than happy to oblige.
She made new flavors every couple of months, and he never complained when she brought a huge vat of leftover ice cream about to go bad to his cabin.
“I don’t like this stuff,” Will said distastefully.
Trav watched as he put another bite of the rich, dark chocolate ice cream into his mouth. He grinned and shook his head. “Then why are you eating it?”
